Im Just Done
by Gothic Anime Wolf
Summary: Ivan's had enough. He's been thorugh so much pain that he just dosen't know what to do anymore. Eventually, he's fallen down so far that its almost impossible to get back up. On top of his depression and bad habits, suddenly he had a bunch of nations cofessing to him and trying to get with him. Its his own living nightmare! Contians Uke! Ivan! Pairings: undecided. Click it, Da?


**Hello this is Gothic Anime Wolf here! It's been quite a while hasn't it? Well, due to my time becoming freer once again, I have finally convinced me, myself, and I that I desperately need to start typing up and uploading my stories. My books (journals, etc.) are just begging to be put in the open. This first story is actually one I had just started on and I hope and encourage reviews to help me get into the 'author's mind' of mine. And, of course, torture my favorite uke character, Ivan Braginski. Hope you all enjoy the uke Russia-ness that I have to offer.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. No do I look like an Estonia.**

**Warnings: This fan fiction is rated M. It may also cause some people to have flashbacks, etc. There is also talks of cutting and other baddy baddy things. If you are sensitive THIS IS NOT FOR YOU.**

**Enjoy!**

_**Thunk…..thunk…..**_

'I'm just done''. That's all my exhausted mind could say before the dark whispers that inhabited my head grew louder and louder; talking only of how his death would be wondrous for my fellow nations. It seems that all I can do is make more and more mistakes. I also seem to continually damn myself in their eyes; unworthy of love form anyone except my little Russia-cat. That cat could find such a better owner and be loved so much better somewhere else. Hell, he's just too cute no to love (in my opinion).

The quiet thunking of my boots on the hardwood floor was the only sound that echoed throughout the eerie abode that was my home here in the outskirts of Moscow, Russia. I had just returned from one of the many back to back meetings that were to happen this month her in my country. I don't even know why I bother to go to the meetings. They were absolutely horrid; nothing gets accomplished, it's loud, and it only served as a reminder of how utterly _alone_ I am and how envious I was of the well-liked Nations. Being constantly reminded of my mistakes nearly broke me when I had first started to attend the meetings.

Tears gleamed out of my eyes and slowly streamed down my face; the dark echo's seemingly endless in my head. Eventually, I came face to face with my comfortingly familiar door that had, on more than one occasion, separated the little world that I had created from the world that had wished for my death the minuet I had opened my eyes within it. It was my room. Now, it wasn't much of a room; with only the bare minimum of essentials and the only razor that I owned that sat haphazardly on the poor old wooden plank that was a bed. I had left the 'bed', if you could classify it as that, haphazardly made in my morning rush to get out the door.

Letting out a soft smile, I entered my room silently. This was the only place on Earth (literally) that I could get away from the horrors of life. Here I could be weak without getting ridiculed.

I _needed _to bleed. I needed it and they just wouldn't understand that. They, I know, have never felt like the world was your enemy. They have never felt so cornered that you would do anything to survive. They, I know, will never know pain. In some twisted sense, I don't think I even realize the _utter agony _that I cause. I felt control when I bleed. It's all I wanted. I was in control; if only of that.

Blissfully, I walked towards my savior, my relief, _**my razor, **_and let my heavy, cream colored coat fall to the floor. If anyone were to come and walk in they would see the horrendous scaring that decorated my skin. I don't even bother looking in the mirrors anymore. I know I looked like a living piece of fiber glass; each scar stretching almost painfully across my skin and moving, seemingly, on its own accord; keeping most of his innards (stupid annoying heart) inside of him with a steel-like strength. I was always paranoid that someone would see one of my scars, so I always word something over my skin. Eventually, I just started to wear my uniform at all times (my coat, gloves, tailored pants, boots and my beloved scarf being the cloths I wore most often). I think at one point I had a pair of skinny jeans somewhere but I hardly every ware them. I think the only time I wore them was when I was buying them.

Shaking my head to rid of the straying threads of thoughts and memories that were wandering about, I cleared my mind with only thoughts of my razor and my blood. By this time the voices were screaming obscenities at me while my blood seemed to pulse in anticipation. I didn't even flinch when the razors crisp clean and sharp blade cute deeply into the skin of my right arm; blood oozing and running a red river towards the floor. The dark voices soon stopped screaming and slowly grew silent as the pitter patter of blood on the dark wood floor echoed throughout the room; the sound my sole focus. This bloody picture seemed to be etched permeably into my mind.

It was dark out when I finally moved from the bed. During this time I had moved from standing awkwardly off to the side of the bed to laying down in a sleeping position and having my blood stain the white satin sheets that adorned my bed. It wouldn't have been the first time that I let my blood stain the sheets. I thought that it was fitting and added such a pretty sight to the room. The moon illuminated the small area with a comforting glow; the wood and my blood becoming almost picturesque and overall very iridescent in an utterly (terrifying) relaxing manner.

I appreciated the calm and the quiet of night when it decorated my country in its dark embrace. I can't count how many times I stayed up to just sit and watch the moon and sky in silence. If the sky was clear and the moon full, you wouldn't find me here. Instead, I'd be outside sleeping in a blanket of snow or in a tree. The snow or cold wouldn't kill me; wouldn't even give me that much of a shiver. No, I liked snow. Especially the silver tinted snow that can be found out only if the skies are clear and the moon at its fullest. I would feel so calm and nice and would just stare up at the sky until I fell asleep. Sadly, tonight wasn't one of those nights.

Tonight was dark with clouds; meaning that I would be stuck inside tonight. I don't seem to have very good luck. My tears (as well as my blood) eventually had stopped; my mind mentally berating me for the time I had wasted. I could have slept, but my dreams only render me a mess due to the horrifying nightmares that followed the unconsciousness of sleep. Turning my head to the traditional clock on the wall, I cursed before sighing. This week we had a back to back meeting and I was supposed to wake up at five tomorrow. Well, today actually since its three A.M.

Sighing out loud, I moaned about the 'lack of sleep' while looking down upon the mess I had made. The thoughts of what the other nations would think caused me to flinch. I could see the other nations laughing at me or looking horrified at how weak and freakish I was acting and at what I had done to myself. It was unsaid taboo to harm your people and because of that it was also taboo to harm yourself for fear of hurting your own people unintentionally. I know that, for now, what I've been doing to myself hasn't effected them. I hope I never accidently hurt them. I know it's selfish, but I don't regret hurting myself. I do regret hurting them. I suppose that it adds to the blood that already covers my hands. Eh, I guess I'm a bit of a monster, Da?

_**Meanwhile…..**_

Red and blue eyes glared at each other while holding on tightly to a photograph; determination and sparks flying through their gazes as their hearts went out to one Ivan Braginski (who happened to be the one in the photo).

The photo showed Ivan dancing upon the frozen ice of Swan Lake with a rare smile; ice skates standing out starkly with his normal attire. An adorable blush also adorned his cheeks and spread cutely across his nose; making his lips pucker out just so in the lighting. A certain Frenchman laughed gaily as he watched the two determinedly stubborn nations fall in love at first sight. At the same time, a Chinese man and Canadian man had finally come to terms with what feelings lied in their hearts, unknown to the Russian man that was drowning in slowly escalating sorrow and grief; the emotions deteriorating what little sanity he had left.

**And that's a wrap folks! Stay tuned for chapter two! Oh, and review!**

**~Gothic Animal Wolf~**


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